Bad Luck
by And Equality For All
Summary: It's the 1950's, and Sarah Williams wants to become a lawyer more than anything. But a shadowy figure that has haunted her for years won't let her, and her mother's past rest. May change the rating later. Read and review, please! :D Still no reviews.:


**My first ever (published) Labyrinth fic. It's off to a very slow start, but please read and review, so I can see if it sparks any interest.**

**(This should go without saying on this site):**

**I don't own any characters or settings from the movie Labyrinth.**

Bad Luck

Sarah Williams slowly applied lipstick to her dull lips, deep in thought. She never wore lipstick; other makeup, yes, when she worked. It was an unusual thing. In the sixties, women didn't leave the house without colored lips. But Sarah… she couldn't apply the stuff without being transported ten years back, when her mother had left her family, and then tragically died— an incident she didn't like to talk about. That she had never talked about, not to Doris, not to Adelaide… Not to her father, who'd been distant since ten years before, when Sarah's mother had run off with an English lover she'd met onstage.

Slowly, Sarah pulled out the only photograph she had of her mother and the lover, taken weeks before they'd died in a stage fire, during a production of the cursed play, Macbeth. The picture was impromptu—Sarah's mother was laughing, sitting in the passenger seat of a convertible. The man beside her…

Sarah quickly put the photograph back into the vanity drawer. She had been haunted by that handsome, angular face for years. The unkempt blonde hair, the mischievous grin, those mismatched eyes… Often they had made an appearance in her dreams… Her nightmares…. He was the last one to see her mother… the last one to kiss her, and hold her hand… The eyes in the picture offered a secret, a secret lost, since both were dead.

Sarah sighed, standing up to straighten her slip, and then she wandered over to the closet to find her red velvet party dress. She didn't want to go to her company's Christmas party, but her employer had mentioned something about a promotion, and she didn't want to seem antisocial in the case that he did offer her one. She worked in a law firm as a secretary—a respectable job for a woman—but Sarah was in law school, and she was going to take the bar in a week. A promotion could make her; she'd worked very hard, so far… Another chance like this wouldn't come again.

She slipped on her dress; her small flat was very quiet, but she liked it that way. The window was open to let in a breeze, and the only noise was the swoosh of passing cars and the rustle of wind in the trees. She looked out, startled to see a pair of eyes staring back at her. A tawny-and-white owl was perched in the tree, blinking calmly, hooting a soft hello. An owl was bad luck, she remembered, frowning at the pretentious little thing. How dare he ruin her one shot at success? She tried to shoo it away, murmuring to it, like it knew what she was saying. "Go away, you terrible thing. Quickly! I mean it!"

The owl hooted back at her, looking offended. She sighed, turning away, determination set in the shoulders; nothing would ruin this opportunity… The night would go perfectly, owl or no.

Sarah pulled on her black pea coat, a little careworn and thin in a few places, but nice looking nonetheless, because it had been expensive, and thus, well-made. Truth be told, Sarah had forgotten where she had gotten it… She frowned, trying to remember… She sighed. It had been her mother's.

She left the flat, pulling on gloves, then she carefully locking her door. Tucking the keys into her pocket, she began to walk down the starry street, her heels clicking on the pavement. The firm was only three blocks away, and the air outside was nice—crisp and clean, cold, but not too windy and miserable. She looked up into the tree where she'd seen the owl. It was still there, its eyes fixated on her, like a person's. She shuddered, trying not to think about it as she walked briskly down the street.

The firm was decorated classily with Christmas wreaths and colored lights, and it was warm inside, packed with chatty employees. Sarah was met at the door by her boss, Mr. Harding. He looked like he'd been waiting for her.

"Sarah, you little minx! And here we'd thought you were playing hooky!" he boomed loudly, pulling her into an awkward half-hug. He was a tall, dark man, smelling strongly of aftershave and cologne. He was handsome, in an intimidating, unapproachable way. Many of the other secretaries had a crush on him, but Sarah didn't feel the same. "Listen, grab some eggnog, enjoy the party, and we'll talk about your promotion a little later tonight, huh?" he winked.

Sarah nodded quickly; good, he hadn't forgotten about his promise. "Yes sir, absolutely," she said compliantly, making her way over to the refreshment table, where Adelaide, Doris, and Margot were gossiping ardently. Sarah selected a cup of eggnog, slipping into their circle.

"…but you know how he is. Man through and through," Adelaide sighed, waving her hand in dismissal. She was probably talking about her on-and-off boyfriend, Harry, who was always promising her something or other.

"Well, Miss Sarah! How good to see you!" Margot said warmly, pulling her tighter into the typists' circle. "Why on earth are you so late?"

Sarah didn't want to mention her spooky incident with the owl. "I just couldn't decide what to wear," Sarah sighed, an imploring smile across her lips. It worked, the other girls nodded knowingly. They'd had the same trouble.

"Well you look absolutely marvelous! It was worth the wait," Doris complimented her, which sent the whole circle into an episode of complimenting every aspect of the others' ensemble. Sarah fawned with the best of them, though her heart wasn't in it. It was necessary to fake it, to get to where she wanted to be. She'd learned that a while ago.

The night went on without incident. There was dancing (Sarah had had to dance with Mr. Harding more than once), a small dinner, and some games like charades. Sarah went through the motions effortlessly, though she meant none of it. It was all so shallow, so pointless… But she supposed she'd inherited some of her mother's acting ability.

The part finally drew to a close, and guests began to trickle out slowly—the girl Doris had hired to watch her two boys would only stay till eleven, Harry had promised Adelaide that he would call by eleven-thirty- and so on. When there were only a handful of people left, Sarah decided that she would take her leave. Mr. Harding must've meant that they would talk about it during work next week. That was fine, she could wait. She meandered to the coat rack, pulling her coat away from the others.

"Sarah! Leaving so soon?" Harding boomed, causing Sarah to turn around quickly. "I thought we were going to talk about your future at the firm…" He looked down at her, expectantly.

"O-of course, sir," Sarah said quickly, putting her coat back on the rack quickly. His hand stopped her, and she looked up, puzzled.

"This isn't really the best place to discuss private matters such as that," he went on, his thin lips curving into a smile that would've been charming on another face. "I was thinking we could swing over to my place—we could take a cab—that would afford us a little more privacy without keeping you here all night…" Again, he paused. "You agree, of course…" he continued, without asking. Sarah could do nothing but nod.

"Excellent, then let's make our leave," he pressed on, grabbing his own coat and hat.

As they got into the cab, Sarah caught a glimpse of the owl. It had followed her. It was perched on a nearby fence. She wasn't superstitious, but… It was the same owl, with the curious, too-human eyes. Her boss was talking about something—business figures, a troublesome coffee-boy, and other meaningless chatter—and she nodded, and she smiled, but she couldn't escape the watchful gaze of the owl.


End file.
